


I built your walls around me

by it_was_so_human



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_was_so_human/pseuds/it_was_so_human
Summary: She thought she was no longer that stupid little girl. Wouldn’t get lost in fairytales again. (But she had.)





	I built your walls around me

She did not need her husband to walk into her chamber right now. Her hair askew, face both pale and blotched red, holding the pot she just went sick in.  

And so of course, he would walk in. 

All night whenever Sansa caught his eyes—that gray gaze he had focused on her was dark and burning. _Withering_. As if he was scrutinizing her anew, and concluded that she dimmed in comparison.

Even now, he seemed disgusted and unhappy with her. Blood and gore and fire of war, and _this_ was what repulsed him.

She sighs. She supposes his lover the Dragon Queen probably would never become sick in front of him.  

She thought she was no longer that stupid little girl. Had convinced herself she had grown smarter with time.

Wouldn’t get lost in fairytales again— _but she had._

She had allowed herself to feel as if Jon had fallen in love with her too, imagined it while his large hands almost reverently grazed her skin, their coarseness tickling and comforting and _sparking_. Convinced herself of it when he would relish her gasps and sighs. Would laugh at her silly jokes as they lazed, facing another side by side, afterwards.

But that was just Sansa Stark being that stupid little girl who believed in the songs despite all the lessons she learned. First because she was silly fanciful chit, but now because she wanted to craft _more_ out of scarps.

Perhaps he had lust for her when no other woman was present, but that hardly meant affection or love. She misses a time when he cared for her at the very least and didn’t resent her very existence. Wished that his wife was the Queen instead.

(This marriage alliance was hardly her idea.)

She was still a stupid little girl because husband does not care for her. Even if he would cup her face and his thumb would stroke her cheek and he would call her _lovely_. She knows know he can hardly stand having her as his wife.

“Why… why did you leave the hall?” Jon asks again, his brow furrowed. “Are you unwell? Do you need me to call the maester?”

God, she wishes he would just leave her be. “No, Jon. It is nothing.”

“Then let me escort you back.”

Soon she’ll be heavy with a child, a Stark babe of her very own, and she will no longer feel an empty gnawing need for Jon.

And now she no longer wants to be polite, no longer cares for delicateness in her words. 

“I rather the others not look at me the way you are.”

_“I will kill anyone that looks at you the way I look at you.”_

His words are gruff and forceful and _meaningless_.

This is the middling knight Sansa deserved. She gives a soft laugh, “I suppose there’s some sort of chivalry there. That my husband won’t let others disparage me. Only himself. Some comfort.”

“Sansa, no,” he practically growls at her.

She’s spent ages preparing for the visiting Queen and her envoy and she’s tired and feels sickly and in no mood to argue with him.

She waves him off, deciding to prepare for bed herself. She stayed long enough—paid enough respect to her husband’s former—perhaps, oh gods, _current_ —lover.

He’s walking towards her. Why won’t he just let her be?

He places his hands firmly at her waist, pressing her to him. She _tired_ , her mouth felt bitter and she’s feels a sticky sheen of sweat on her face.

“How do I look at you Sansa? Like a besotted fool? A lustful degenerate?”

Her heart beats as if to break out of her chest when he places his shaking hand on her stomach.

“Like a man _hungering_ to have his wife, the mother of his child?

She gasps looking at him, he _knew_?

“Aye Sansa, I watch my wife very carefully.”

“Why?” Simply to measure her against another?

“Because I love and care for her deeply.” His hand still rests on her stomach, still flat and showing little sign of their child.  

She snorts, even as she feels her heart leap. “You were glowering at me all tonight Jon.”

“Glowering? No, not at you. I was upset that you had to overly tax yourself so.” His hand pushes back a strand of her hair, “And I was ready to bite the head of every man who flirted with you all evening long. Little shits, all of them.”

He places a firm kiss on her forehead.

“None of those men were my lovers,” she protests angrily, though the objection feels weak even to herself.

“I know it is callous of me, but there’s some satisfaction in knowing you are capable of as much jealousy over me as I constantly feel over you.”

She frowns deeply and Jon does that thing again where he cups her face and his thumb strokes her cheek and she’s still mad but perhaps not as much as she had been.

“I think… I think it’ll take time. But you’ll see. You will _never_ need to be jealous of any woman, Sansa Stark.”

He sounds so _sure_ and she think she believes him.

“How do you know?”

“I just… I just _know_. Like I know that while I would love to convince her, I’m not so depraved as to take advantage of my wife right now.” He moves behind her to help untie her laces. “That right now I know what you are in need of is a bath and bed”

And she can feel his smile as he leaves a soft kiss on her neck before whispering in her ear, causing her to shiver. “I’ll save that for when you’re well rested.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt “I will kill anyone that looks at you the way I look at you."
> 
> Let's be friends on tumblr. I'm it-was-so-human


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